A LIVELY BREAKFAST INCIDENT.
Monday, Aug. 14.—I come now to introduce to you a new acquaintance.
I did not get down to breakfast till it was almost over, as I was detained with the queen, and as everybody was obliged to make what haste they could, in order to insure a meal before a summons. I found Miss Planta, and the aide-de-camp, vice chamberlain, and equerry; Lady Harcourt had already breakfasted with them, but made off as soon as the queen was visible, to wait upon her majesty. Miss Vernons lay in bed from yesterday's fatigues.
The extreme silence and gravity of the aide-de-camp threw a reserve and constraint on all the party, and we were all nearly dumb, when a new lady suddenly rushed into the room. This was Mrs. Harcourt, the aide-de-camp's wife, who had been ill the preceding day, and therefore had not ventured to Oxford. She is a showy, handsome woman, extremely talkative, with quick parts, high spirits, and a rattling vein of humour.
Miss Planta, who had taken Lady Harcourt's place, in order to pour out the tea, instantly moved to another. Mrs. Harcourt hurried into that just vacated, without ceremony, calling out, “How monstrous late you all are!—though I need not talk, for I hate getting up early. I was so vastly ill yesterday I could not stir, but I am vastly well to-day, so I am going to Blenheim.”
This day had been previously dedicated to seeing Blenheim.
“To Blenheim?” repeated General Harcourt, in a low voice.
“Yes, sir, to Blenheim! So no grave faces, for my plan is fixed.”
He half articulated a fear of her being ill again, but she stopped him with “O, no matter, leave that to the Fates;—the queen has been so gracious as to say I may go, and therefore go I shall: so say nothing about it, for that's settled and unalterable.”
“After being so ill yesterday,” said Mr. Fairly, “I think it will be rather too much for you.”
“Not at all!—and what's more, you must carry me.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” cried he, “if go you will.”
“Yes, that I will, certainly; and some of you must take me. I have no coach ordered,-and there is not one to spare: so, amongst you, you equerries, you must carry me. I have never been to Blenheim since I married.”
“Were you before?” said the general.
“Yes, sir, and you took me.”
“Did I?”
“Yes, sir, you had that honour; and I think you have never taken that trouble since.”
All this, though uttered in a voice as peremptory as the language, was spoken with very becoming smiles, and an air of saucy good humour.
The breakfast all this while had stood quite still: indeed there was nobody but myself that had not nearly done. Major Price handed me roll and butter and bread across the table, by way of hint, I believe; all which I declined: at last Mr. Fairly said,
“Miss Burney, which is your cup?”
Upon this, Mrs. Harcourt, abruptly turning to me, exclaimed “O dear, you've got no tea!” Then pouring out a dish of slop, added, “Can you drink it? It looks very melancholy.”
“No,” I said, “I have had enough.”
Have not you also, my Susan, had enough of this scene?
The Blenheim visit being considered as a private one, nobody went but of the Marlborough acquaintance: though in all royal parties, the whole company is always named by the royals, and the lords and ladies of the mansions have no more right to invite a guest than a guest has to come uninvited.
I spent this day very pleasantly, in walking over the grounds which are extremely pretty, seeing a flower-garden planned by Mr. Mason, and the pictures in the house. The two Miss Vernons, Miss Planta, and Mr. Hagget, were all that remained at Nuneham. And it was now I wholly made peace with those two ladies; especially the eldest, as I found her, the moment she was removed from rays so bright that they had dazzled her, a rational, composed, obliging woman. She took infinite and unwearied pains to make amends for the cold and strange opening of our acquaintance, by the most assiduous endeavours to give me pleasure and amusement. And she succeeded very well. I could blame nobody but the countess' sister for our reception; I plainly saw these ladies had been unprepared to look upon us as any charge to themselves.
The royal excursioners did not return till between six and seven o'clock, when we dined with the same party as the preceding day. The evening, too, had just the same visitors, and passed in just the same manner.